Chase's Medical Records
by instantchaos
Summary: House steals Chase's medical history file. He wants to find out what is in Robert's past. What makes him tick. Addresses House's attitude towards Chase's abusive childhood. And things he sees in Chase today. Slash if you squint. Judas.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own House M.D. or anything associated with it. Wish I did though. Sad it's ending QQ.

Okay. This is my second House fic, so please Read and Review. I really hope they're not OOC. Aaah I'm so nervous! Kk please let me know what you think. I never realized how awesome getting reviews was until I started writing. So please :D Also, I've been trying to write some funny, fluffier fics, but I'm still stuck on the whole angsty Chase and House thing. Also, I guess this could be slashy if you squint, but I don't really know anything about slash.

Okay. Please enjoy.

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><p>House clutched the manila folder, a shining beacon of golden secrets in his eyes, and hobbled as quickly as he could to the privacy of coma guy's room. He didn't want to be interrupted while he was reading this and he knew his team would check at least five other places before they got here. He settled in the empty bed next to Mr. Garrison, still unconscious, and turned on the T.V. Aha, <span>Girls Gone Wild 3<span>. A valid excuse if they found him before he'd finished.

Fluffing the extra pillow commandeered from beneath coma guy's head, House leaned back, hoisting his bad leg up onto the narrow bed with a grimace. The familiar scent of antiseptic laundry soap wafted into the air every time he shifted, almost a comforting smell, which was kind of sad actually, but House could ponder that later. The folder lay innocuously on his lap. It was thinner than he'd expected and it hadn't been easy to get it. He'd had to bribe two nurses _and_ the sweaty archive guy. _Oh the things I'll do, _House thought to himself. He hesitated for a brief second before opening the folder. As a diagnostician, reading someone's medical records was akin to being handed their life story and a psych eval. Especially for House. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but considering the little that Chase had let on about his father, it had to be pretty bad. Maybe broken bones, a few burns, or some psych notes after his mother's death. But that _was_ why he'd stolen it. Borrowed it... _Either I'm a sadistic bastard or a masochist with a soft spot for wombats,_ he smiled to himself.

When he finally opened it, House was stunned. He sat for a moment, his brain whirring in utter confusion. _What? This is not possible. No way._ The folder was essentially empty. It listed hardly any childhood injuries and only included general vaccinations and check-ups. A case of bronchitis. The kid that bit him on the arm. The incident at the bachelor party. A few others. House closed the folder and shook his head. He was pissed. _Logically, I know this isn't right. Someone wiped his records. _He flipped it back open and reaized that there was nothing in there about the time he'd punched Chase. Then he saw it. A note about a prescription for painkillers that never got filled. The date fit. Chase hadn't wanted to dull the pain. He didn't want to be like House. _No, this was different._ House swallowed hard as the unbidden image of Chase's face filled his head, letting himself wallow in self-hate for a few moments.

Several hours later, after the exhausting interrogations of Cuddy, Wilson, and the increasingly clueless administrative staff of Princeton Plainsboro, it became clear to House that if something did happen to Chase's record, _and something did_, he reassured himself; then it must have been in Australia. That left only one person he could interrogate. The wombat himself.

**_Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beeeeeeep._**

Chase groaned, looking down at his pager. He'd just closed his locker.

HOUSE. The screen was flashing.

He immediately looked to Thirteen and Foreman, "What? I'm the only one that got paged?"

"Looks like it." Foreman pulled his coat on, "Maybe he has some extra special clinic hours for you?"

"Well, I'm out of here before he _does_ page us." Thirteen shook her head, glossy brown hair shimmering across her back.

"But why _me_?" Chase whinged as he stuffed his coat and bag back inside his locker. He'd already changed into his jeans and a soft cotton t-shirt with a surfboard and waves stenciled across the front. He'd had plans that evening, and was now picturing a long night of doing whatever cruel and menial task House had dreamt up. "This was a long case…"

"Well, did you do anything to incur the wrath of House ?" Foreman asked, "Of course, other than having an accent…or existing." He unsuccessfully tried to stifle a smirk and followed Thirteen out the door, leaving Chase to his doom.

Chase watched them leave morosely, sighing as he hurried into the elevator. Better to get this over with.

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><p>He pushed through the glass door, into House's office. The rest of the department was empty, lights already off. "You paged?" Chase mocked, with a small bow.<p>

"Sit." House raised his eyebrows towards a chair that was in front of his desk and swung his feet off the top of his desk, revealing the thin yellow folder.

"Why?" Chase crossed his arms and looked down at House.

"So I can ogle your pretty face instead of your pants. Duh." House sounded annoyed, "Just sit."

Chase just rolled his eyes and obliged, smiling caustically. "So, what is it that you didn't want Forman and Thirteen for and that couldn't wait until morning? Is it illegal? Cause you know-"

"As if I would call the swimsuit model. " House slid the folder across his desk and waited. His chin rested on his folded hands, his eyes watching Chase intently. "It's this."

"A case? House…" Chase's voice dropped off as his eyes locked onto the name printed on the label on the top of the folder.

Chase, Robert (M.D.).

His hands began to shake slightly and he lobbed the folder in the general direction of the garbage can, but the papers flew, scattered across the carpet. House had done a lot of things in the past, invaded their privacy, but this was too much. Chase was pissed and his accent returned in full-force Aussie. "What the hell, House? My medical records? How did you even… No, why did you get them? Seriously, this is completely rid-"

"Ridiculous? I'm just _concerned_ about one of my employees." House pressed his hands to his chest and pouted sarcastically.

"Concerned, my ass" Chase spat, half-rising from his chair, still undecided between lunging for his boss's throat and simply leaving.

House stood up, his weight on his good leg and started to yell, his rough voice louder and more piercing in the silence of the empty floor. "I did it because of _this_-", House slammed his cane onto the desk and watched Chase nearly fall out of his chair. "And _this_-", he raised a hand and watched the young doctor's head jerk violently to the side, his eyes shutting reflexively for a second too long. House lowered his voice, speaking intensely and rapidly, as Chase stood up and stumbled backwards, crumpling the slippery white pages of his file.

"The way you tense when you hear the tinkle of ice in a glass." House moved around his desk and followed, pressuring Chase to keep moving, until his back pressed against the cool, smooth glass of the wall. His cheeks were tinged pink and his chest heaved up and down.

"House-" Chase growled, anger radiating off of him, mixed with a humid desperation.

"The way you watch my hands" House pushed closer to Chase looking down at him with a mixture of regret and something he couldn't quite name.

"House…" Chase was practically whispering now, and House was considering whether he'd pushed him too far. The blonde chick magnet was looking more and more like a miserable kid.

"The vein that pops out when we get a certain type of patient" He reached up, ignoring Chase's flinch, and rested two fingers on Chase's pale, tense neck. "Right here"

Chase swallowed hard, his head tipped to the side, his eyes staring past House, to the snowflakes tumbling past the huge window. His Adam's apple bobbed, shifting the muscles underneath House's fingertips, calloused from playing instruments.

House dropped his hand and took a step back, tilting his head to the side as Chase cleared his throat.

"Well, boss. What did you expect? My dad was a doctor after all." Chase laughed without any warmth and looked up at House. He still seemed a little shaky.

"A damn good one" House said, still watching Chase closely.

"Yeah, you would know." Chase laughed softly again, and raised his head to stare back at House. "He got away with everything too. Of course, he wasn't in your league."

"Hmph" House limped back to his chair and settled down, taking a sip from his mug and sliding another one to the front of his desk. "Coffee. Not poisoned. Scout's honour."

"You weren't a boy scout." Chase hadn't moved from his spot against the wall, his sweaty palms still pressed flat against the frosted glass. He looked at House, clearly bewildered. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting from House, but this was not it.

"Well, you can stay there if you want, but I think maintenance might resent cleaning all that glass." House smirked as Chase stayed silent, eyeing him suspiciously "Sit down already. Are you going to tell me about it or what?"

Slowly Chase pushed away from the wall and walked over without taking his eyes off of House. He sank into the chair and grabbed a mug. "All right."

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><p>R&amp;R :D KK If you guys like it, I'll continue..?<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Still don't own House.

Okay! Here's the next bit. I feel like it's not as good as the last chapter, but I promised myself I'd update within a week, so here it is. And I've already started writing the next part. I can't help it! It's addictive. (So much better than studying for midterms).

And thanks for all the reviews! Let me know what you think :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Chase ran a hand through his silky, blonde hair and leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. "So, what'd you want to know, House?"

"What do _you_ think I want to know?" House replied calmly, his feet propped back up on the desk corner.

Chase just looked on, tired and bewildered, as House slurped his coffee.

"Do you have any idea how difficult it was to even get your file? I mean seriously, you'd think it was some kind of secret military experiment." House snickered to himself, "_Nah_, obviously the government isn't going to spend all their money on wombats. Not ferocious enough."

"I'm sure obtaining my _private_ medical records was a huge strain for you. But don't think that simply because-"

"They were suspiciously empty." House interrupted, drumming his fingers on his desk. He glanced down at the carpet; the white sheets of Chase's history still lay scattered and crumpled on the floor.

"What do you want me to say? It's pretty self-explanatory. Dad was a successful doctor. He didn't want anyone nosing 'round in our family business. And for good reason…" Chase shrugged, his accent still thicker than normal.

"And what business would that be?" House gasped, feigning astonishment. "Australian mob?"

"Good guess."

"Come on" House leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and folding his hands. "I can keep a secret."

"Am I supposed to be like that rape-victim girl? I tell you a tragic story and you get to tell me everything is going to be okay?" Chase asked bitterly.

"Well, with your fair complexion and golden locks, I wouldn't be surprised if Daddy couldn't control himself." House smirked. "But no. This isn't the same."

"House…"

"Unless Daddy really-"House raised his eyebrows in taunting, fake shock.

"_No._ Honestly, House, you'd think-"

"Fine" House fixed his gaze on the young doctor sitting in front of him and sighed, kneading his thigh. "_My_ father used to make me take baths in a tub of ice to punish me, but that doesn't mean I freak out whenever I see someone holding a pitcher of ice cubes."

Chase was momentarily shocked into silence by House's admission. Sure, they'd all joked about House's childhood, but he hadn't expected this. He and House actually had something in common, and judging by the frustrated expression on House's face, he wasn't pleased that he'd had to reveal something personal. Chase blinked, speaking slowly, "I don't freak out…"

"Oh, yeah?" House raised his eyebrows, "Would you like an encore of what just happened?"

Chase looked away for a second, watching through the window as snowflakes fell in silence, blanketing everything in a cover of sparkling white. His blonde hair had fallen to the front, almost entirely shading his eyes with golden fringe, "You already know…" He almost whispered, his voice suddenly sounding a little hoarse.

"I know that Mommy drank herself to death and Daddy didn't care." House frowned and bored his eyes into Chase. "Anything else you wanna share?"

"Oh yeah, you really know how to get someone to open up." Chase shook his head, but didn't make any move to leave. He looked down, picking at the fraying bits of thread on his jeans.

"Chase." House pinched the bridge of his nose and growled softly, "Just-"

"Do you think it's worse that he was sober?" Chase said abruptly, looking back up and locking his own ocean blue eyes with House's.

"Sobe-"

"Whenever my mum lost it, I always knew that it was the alcohol that was making her do it. Even when she hit me, or locked me in Dad's study, or when she forgot me, I knew it was because she was drunk." Chase held House's gaze, willing himself not to flinch.

"Aaaand it didn't piss you off?" House asked, "I mean-"

"Of course it pissed me off." Chase interjected, "I was angry that she couldn't take care of herself, or us for that matter, but I was more pissed at my dad for dumping her on me once he'd had enough."

"But it was different with your father."

"Yeah" Chase cracked his knuckles and anxiously wiped his palms off on his knees, watching House carefully, trying to judge what his boss was thinking. No such luck. House's features were schooled, his expression one of practiced nonchalance. "With my dad, he always knew exactly what he was doing. Sometimes he just knocked me around, sometimes he used his belt. He had one with the buckle already off, you know, no scars or anything someone could've reported. Not that anyone would have, not with him."

Chase paused again and licked his lips, his mouth and throat drying up. House just sat, silent and immobile, so Chase kept going, figuring House hadn't found the answer he was waiting for yet. "It was tough to tell what would set him off. But once he'd snapped, that was it."

"Why?" House uttered the single word so quietly, Chase almost didn't hear it.

"Hell if I know." Chase snorted, laughing softly. "Most of the time, I deserved it. Maybe I'd screwed up at school, got in a fight, or maybe I was talking back. Once, he caught me with a girl. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't already expressly told me to stay away from her and her family. He didn't approve. It took a couple weeks before I could put on a t-shirt without feeling as if my back was on fire."

House forced himself not to look away as he struggled against his imagination, picturing a young Chase's toned back marred by angry welts and dripping blood. Of course he would have gotten in trouble because of a girl. House smirked to himself; it was like Chase's hair was magnetized.

"Do you remember when you caught Cameron and me in the janitor closet? I backed right into a shelf full of toilet cleaner and garbage bags, I felt like it was happening all over again. For a second there, I really had no idea what you were going to do to me." Chase shook his head as House's smirk faded, recalling how triumphant he'd felt when he interrupted them. "Other times he'd have lost a patient or had a rough day, and he needed to pound off some stress. I just happened to be there. Conveniently for him."

House frowned, rubbing his leg more vigorously, trying in vain not to think about all the times he'd taken out his pain or anger on the team. _This was different, _he told himself, and yet he couldn't quite believe it.

Chase grimaced, "Is your leg –"

"My leg is fine." House growled, "Keep going."

Chase couldn't help but wince at House's tone of voice. "But-"

"I command you to speak, oh faithful servant." House trilled in a rather good British accent, making Chase break into a small smile.

"Yeah, okay. You want to know why you make me flinch, why I follow your orders? Why I'm the one that usually goes for your psychotic plans?" Chase's smile faded, "Why does it have to be because of my past? Maybe I just happen to respect you and agree with you."

House just stared back at Chase. "I don't want you to agree with me just because I'm standing over you, or because you think, for some absurd reason, that I'm going to hit you, _ooh _say, with my cane. I need it to be your _opinion,_ not a survival mechanism."

"You've hit me before" Chase pointed out calmly.

"Not with my _cane_"

"Yeah, you punched me." Chase rolled his eyes

"And you punched _me_." House retorted, mimicking Chase's face.

"Whatever. House-"

"And if I hit you again…?" House's voice dropped.

Chase's head snapped up in surprise, as House continued speaking quietly. "If I'm in withdrawal, if one of you kids starts to seriously piss me off… who knows what'll happen. I'm not making any promises."

"I don't want your promises." Chase narrowed his eyes.

"Good, cause I don't keep them." House shook his head, "I can't say I won't, but I don't want to hurt you. Provoke? Yes. Torment a little? Hell yes. But, hurt? No. I want to _protect_ you. I am _trying_ to protect you." He looked up and stared Chase down, his eyes a pale, icy blue.

"_Protect_ me?" Chase laughed and stood up, starting to pace back and forth in front of House's desk, his shoes twisting the sheets of paper covering the floor. "By stealing my records and then interrogating me?"

"Yeah" House raised his voice, a strong feeling welling up inside his chest, one that he had no idea how to categorize. "There's no way you'd tell me anything otherwise."

"And why on Earth would you ever think that?" Chase retorted sarcastically, his pacing speeding up.

House hauled himself out of his chair and limped around to the front of the desk. He leaned back, toying with his wooden cane as he watched Chase pace back and forth, back and forth. Maybe this hadn't been the best way, but there was no way House was going to give up now.

"Hey. Chase, hey. Stop it." House squashed a sudden, incomprehensible urge to just grab Chase and find some way to make sure everything was okay. "I _said_…Stop!" He jerked his arm forward, sticking his cane directly between Chase's ankles as he turned to keep walking.

Chase gave a startled yelp as he tumbled to the floor and rolled until his shoulder hit the bookcase. House hobbled over surprisingly quickly and poked Chase's ribs with the end of his cane. Hard. "What the hell was that for, House?" Chase propped himself up on his elbows and stared up at House.

"You wouldn't stop." House said petulantly and jerked his cane towards Chase again. Chase winced and closed his eyes, waiting for impact that never came. "_Come on_", House groaned and rolled his head back. "You still think I'm going to beat you up?"

"Well…" Chase said pointedly, still lying on the floor, the dark carpet rough against his elbows.

"Get up." House sighed and hobbled back to the desk. "And sit." Chase stood up, his eyes glued to House's cane; just in case he got any more ideas about tripping him. But just as he stepped towards his chair, House promptly sat down in it. "Hah." House said smugly. "Stole your chair."

Chase smiled despite himself and mumbled, "Whatever…" He sank into the comfy chair next to the bookcase and looked searchingly at House. "You know House… You're different somehow…"

"Different?" House's expression was unreadable, his mouth a straight line and his eyebrows only slightly raised.

"Yeah" Chase folded his hands, still damp with perspiration, and picked at the skin around his nails. He spoke slowly, as if he wasn't certain about anything he was saying. "Different. From what I expected. From my father."

House froze, for once he didn't have a quip ready to fire back. That feeling from before was surging inside him again, threatening to choke him. He just looked at the kid sitting in front of him, young and vulnerable. _What the hell is this feeling? _A strangled noise bubbled from the back of his throat as a single thought went fleetingly through his mind, _Is this how it feels to watch your kid suffer?_

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><p>AN: Okay. There it is. Idk if that last line was too much? Aargh. Now that I know people have actually read this, I am infinitely more nervous. Kk I'll update in the next couple weeks probably.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, first of all, I can't believe it's been a year since I last updated this. I am so sorry to everyone that was waiting to read it. I got crazy busy with work and school and stuff, so this chapter kind of got ignored and covered in dust at the back of my writing folder.**

**I wrote half of it last year, when I promised I'd update it and the other half this weekend. Hope it's not OOC at all, it's been a while since I watched House. Please review and let me know if I should continue, or end it like this? Aah I'm nervous.**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews and favourites and follows. And special thanks to walkersystem 's review, which kind of gave me the shove to post this.**

Disclaimer: Yet again, I don't own House M.D.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

House leaned back in his chair and stared pointedly at an invisible spot just over Chase's shoulder. "Well then. What exactly makes me so different?" He couldn't help the rush of adrenaline that coursed through him, his veins on fire, as he asked the question. Suddenly he really did want to know why Chase didn't think he was as bad as Rowan had been. He knew that they weren't related and that House wasn't the one that'd destroyed his family, but House had messed with his duckling's adult life often enough.

Chase stiffened, but he supposed that he couldn't say something like that without an explanation. Plus it wasn't as if he had a choice, he knew House would never let it go. He exhaled heavily, wiping his hands on his faded (but oh so sexy) jeans, and shrugged. "Well, you know…"

"I really don't" House cleared his throat in mild irritation and cocked a grey, bristled eyebrow.

"Okay, uhh" Chase paused and stared blankly out the window, trying to think of something he could tell House, anything.

He licked his lips in desperation as a memory came flooding back. He suddenly found it difficult to swallow, he felt as though he was back in Aus, the hot air sucking the moisture from his lips, coating his throat in a layer of suffocating dust. He coughed, gluing his eyes to the floor as he braced himself to actually tell House something real.

House waited, jiggling his good leg, as he tried to be patient, which was definitely not his strong suit. "So…"

"So." Chase laughed nervously, "There was this one time. It was kind of stupid actually…" Chase paused, flashing his seawater green eyes up to House's face. "I'd had a football match. A really important one, end of the season and everything, you know. And he'd said earlier that he was going to come watch, wanted to see me win. I didn't usually pay any mind when he said things like that, he never actually showed up."

"Let me guess, you scored the impossibly difficult game-winning goal, and maybe a hot cheerleader or two. And you proved that you don't need Daddy for everything." House interjected, inwardly hoping that Chase would say he was right.

Chase barked a laugh, "What, House. You get all your ideas from Hollywood's happy endings?" He shook his head and breathed in, the wisp of air hitching in his throat. "No. In fact, he actually did show up."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing? Daddy's finally showing interest in Junior." House inquired mildly.

"It would've been, had we not lost the game horrifically."

"Oh"

"Yeah"

"I would've thought that the golden boy would've been brilliant at soccer. Or football. Whatever twisted thing you wombats call it."

"I _was_ good." Chase said matter-of-factly. "Actually, I was MVP for the last three years of high school. I scored two goals in that game… good goals." A faint smile tugged on his lips at the blurry rush of memory, the arc of a white blur through the air, into just the right spot, the smell of sweat and dry, dying grass heavy in Chase's head.

"So what was the problem?" House frowned, jarring Chase out of his reverie and prodding him back into a more uncomfortable memory.

Chase swallowed and looked back at House uncertainly. "Well, we lost."

"I know that." House muttered impatiently.

"Losing meant we'd failed. And well, Rowan Chase was never one to tolerate failure." Chase sighed, "The drive home was absolutely silent. He was right pissed. His hands kept clenching and unclenching, strangling the steering wheel." Chase swallowed hard again. "I followed him to the kitchen and he sat at the table. Got himself a drink. I just stood there. Waiting. Then he really started in on me, losing was pathetic. Losing was unacceptable. I had failed him. I tried to argue, told him I'd scored the only goals of the game. Told him that half the team was benched with injuries. Big mistake. His hands were opening and closing again, balling up into fists, icy white against the tan wood of the table. That's when I knew exactly what I had coming."

Chase tucked one leg underneath himself, instinctively curling his body towards the wall. "It suddenly occurred to me that maybe I didn't have to stick around for this. You know? If he could take off whenever he wanted, so could I." He swallowed hard, his eyes cast towards the floor. "So I ran."

House leaned forward slowly, he couldn't help picturing everything as Chase was saying it; seeing a blonde teenager, sweaty and dirty, flushed from the heat and exertion of the game. His right hand closed tightly around his red bouncy ball, trying to crush it.

"I didn't…I didn't have time to put my shoes on. I just turned 'round and booked it out the screen door. I heard it crash behind me, but I didn't turn to look. To see if he was coming. Our street went a few blocks before it turned into dirt road leading to the brush. The houses were a blur. I just had to make it to the bush. I felt like I'd been running for ages. Then I heard the tires grinding behind me, I knew it had to be him in the car. It was just a little further. He came past me and slammed on the brakes, I tried to go faster, but he was right there. By the time he caught me, my feet were bleeding. He'd never really been the shouting type, you know. More the quiet, threatening type. Never wanted to make a scene. Never wanted to make a fuss. Smile for the neighbours. Well, he sure forgot about that. He caught me by the back of my t-shirt and he grabbed my neck, dragging me back to the car. I was kicking and twisting, dunno why… I could never have overpowered him. Don't even know why I thought I could outrun him in the first place. He was screaming about how I had to do what he said. How I had to _respect_ him. I was choking and crying by then. It was hot and salty and dusty and my throat felt so thick, I couldn't have said a word if I'd wanted to, dared to. Even if I had shouted for help, we were quite a ways down the road by then, and besides, no one would have come."

"And then I was pressed against the hood of our car, the corner digging into my hip bone and my skin burning against the silver molten heat of metal." Chase's eyes were still glued to floor, glazed over and unseeing, while he coughed, trying to clear his throat. He didn't seem to notice as his left hand touched his hip, fingers threading through the belt loop of his jeans.

"His hand was on my throat, closing around my neck, so I wouldn't move. And he was still yelling, his face right next to mine, holding me down. All this bullshit about how I was ungrateful, a disrespectful son. I just closed my eyes and tried to breathe through his death grip, waiting for it to be over." Chase paused here, the weight of everything he'd been saying settling in his head, and he chanced a glance at House, trying to gauge how he was doing. He hoped desperately he hadn't made a mistake, opening his mouth.

House was staring intently at his young subordinate, a slight frown pulling his eyebrows down. At Chase's glance, he simply shrugged. "I'm still here, Chase, just keep going."

Chase swung his gaze back to the floor, his cheeks flushed. "Well. I was still pinned against the car. He let go of my throat and yanked my t-shirt over my head. Shoved me back down into the top of the car and started laying into me with his belt. God, it felt like my face was on fire, the metal had got so hot. Usually he made me count, but… I think he was in more of a rage mood. " He smirked, his jaw clenched with a dark mirth. "Then he threw me into the back seat and drove home. Didn't say a word, just got out and walked back up the porch steps into the house. Didn't even look back. I just layed there, probably for like half an hour or something, before I had the guts to go inside. I didn't know if I was supposed to wait, or follow him in. I don't know… it was like I was all frozen inside. And I was exhausted."

"My mum, she did my laundry the next day. She picked up my socks and t-shirt, still brown with dust and blood, and just tossed them in the hamper. She didn't even blink, didn't say a word. So yeah." Chase felt a growing lump in his throat; he tried to cough again, but only managed a quiet wheeze. He jerked forward, reaching a hand out to an abandoned glass of water on the corner of House's desk. He needed to drink something, anything.

House reached out, liquid fast, his fingers closing firmly around Chase's wrist and stopping his reach. "No. Finish."

Chase jutted his chin out, his attempt at a glare tempered by the soft noise that escaped his throat. House's stare pierced right through him, making him inhale jerkily, a tense feeling of icy burning fire under his ribs expanding and contracting with every breath. He pulled his arm back to himself and curled up again, his eyes still on his esoteric boss.

"You wanted to know what makes you different?"

"Yeah"

"I never respected him. I respect you."

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, so done. Please review... I really am sorry for the ridiculously long time it took me to write this, but I can't even say how much it means to me that so many people have read, reviewed, and followed this story! You guys are the best, and I'm sorry.**


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